I could hardly believe the welcome news, and a personal inspection was necessary to convince me of the fact, and then a strong drink from my flask was needful to compose my nerves, and render me a fit subject for sleep.

“Let me give you a word of advice,” Mr. Brown said, joining me in the drink with wonderful alacrity.  “Never again camp out without seeing that the bottoms of your trousers are shoved tight into the tops of your boots.  This simple precaution sometimes saves much trouble and suffering.  I again drink to your lucky escape.”

“If you do, try the contents of your own bottle, then, for mine is running low.”

Mr. Brown did not heed my request, and I had the satisfaction of hearing the liquor gurgling down his throat as though he liked it exceedingly; and when he did return the bottle, he gave me more fatherly advice, which was to the effect that I should carry a larger flask during my travels, if I expected to be successful in life, and die happy.

CHAPTER LXVI.

JOURNEY AFTER THE BURIED TREASURE.

I have a distinct impression that I was thinking on the subject when sleep overtook me, and when I was awakened Mr. Brown was already rolling up his blankets and making his toilet.

“Come,” he exclaimed, “let us be stirring before sunrise, and by ten o’clock we can reach the banks of the Loddon.  Get the kettle from the pack, and we will have a cup of coffee for breakfast.”

While I was unpacking the miscellaneous articles which the pack horse was compelled to carry, Mr. Brown started a fire, and in a short time the fumes of boiling coffee mingled with the fragrance of the numerous flowers which grew upon the banks of the stream.

“How did you sleep?” I inquired, while cooling my pot of coffee, and eating my cake of bread, seasoned with a small piece of salt pork, which I had broiled on a stick.

“Not very soundly, I must confess, yet I think that I can get through the day without a siesta.  By the way, how you do snore!”

“Do?” I asked, “I didn’t know that you was sufficiently awake during the night to discover the fact.  But a truce to jesting.  What direction do we travel to reach the Loddon?”

“We have got to ford this stream, and follow the bank for about three miles, where we cross the country in the direction of Mount Tarrengower, which we cannot see from this spot; after we have gained the Loddon, we are to find a sheep path that will lead us to a plain, in the centre of which is a small barren strip, surrounded on all sides, excepting one, with quicksands and bogs.  Bill told me that the path would lead almost direct to the spot, and that I could not fail to recognize it, as thousands of sheep resort there every week for the purpose of licking the salt that is constantly forming under the action of brackish water and a burning sun.”

“And Mount Tarrengower—­how far is that from the place indicated?” I inquired.